Dear Sobriety (Full Fic)
by crueltyandthebeastx
Summary: {This is a multi-chapter fic based off Dear Sobriety oneshot submitted for the 12 Monkeys Theme Week} Cassie Railly hasn't had an easy life and this disease her daddy passed onto her hasn't made it any easier. She's a drunk and she's got a choice: keep drinking and kill yourself or get help. She wants help, even if she doesn't know it. And only James Cole can help her now...
1. We All Have Our Demons

"If I've told you **once** I've told you a **thousand** times! Pick up your **damned toys** when I fucking tell you!"

_**SLAP!**_

Long baby fine blonde hair flies wild as the pudgy cheeks of the little girl's face shakes and jiggles, her face snapping hard to the right with the hardest slap the child had yet to experience. The man doing the abusing was much larger than the four year old, overbearing and oppressive. "Daddy…daddy please!"

"What's going on in here? Oh my God! What have you done!? My baby! Cassie, honey!"

Mama outstretched her arms to the little blonde and the little thing with a red hand mark on her face, beginning to welt, ran into those waiting arms, those safe arms. "Mama, mama, mama…" The blonde buried her stinging face into her mother's neck and chest, not even bothering to make sense after the mother's title. Mama knew what she needed. Mama knew everything.

Mama ushered the daughter into her back bedroom and closed the door. Before the door clicked into place mama got on her level and grabbed hold of the girl, making her look at her mother in the eye. "Cassie, baby, daddy's not himself. He doesn't mean it… But I need you to do something for me okay?" When Cassie nodded mama smiled and continued. "I need you to stay in here no matter what you hear, baby, you hear me? Mama needs you to stay put no matter what."

Lamps were thrown off end tables, vases and glass items, decorations and framed pictures were all slid off tables and the top of the mantelpiece. Through all of that Cassie remained behind her parents' bed, tucked between the bed and the wall in the far corner of the room. She didn't start to cry until she heard her mama scream and a couple heavy thuds in quick succession. At that point she wasn't just crying…

She was screaming.

Blonde hair cascades forward as the little one's head drops to her knees, knees pulled up to her chest, all the air left her chest and she has nothing more to give. Little Cassie is numb and that's nothing a four year old should be. Her eyes close and for a while she fades away…

And free floats…

When her eyes open again, her head raises and she's twenty-one years old staring at a reflection in the mirror of a bathroom. The bathroom was old, outdated, colored in browns and muted yellows like some sort of homage to the Partridge Family. If someone could have taken a sledgehammer to it, it would have been too soon. The face in the mirror was not her own; instead, the face belonged to a woman who appeared much older, if only for the look of absolute self disdain and loathing she found there. It seemed ever since she'd met Aaron Marker she hated herself and everything she stood for.

Did she really stand for anything at all?

The black tears falling down her face weren't like her at all. Cassie ordinarily didn't like to wear makeup. Why she felt the need to change herself to fit what was expected of her was somehow beyond her ability to understand or the want to. She loved him didn't she? He loved her; that was for sure. Perhaps he loved her too much because to some he was obsessive, possessive and controlling and wanted for Cassie to be at his every whim, at his every beck and call but when she needed something he was never there.

He was never there.

She needed him and he was never there…

**/**

Blue green orbs of pure light opened, startled. The morning light filtering through the blinds at the far side of the room was enough to tell Cassie Railly that the day had started without her. But then, she had nothing at all to do that wasn't oriented around taking care of the house and home or private affairs. Aaron wouldn't let her work; he was against it because he wanted a wife that could travel with him once he ran for public office. She couldn't very well do that while working for the CDC as an accomplished virologist, could she?

Her long lithe frame curled up on itself and had her sitting on the edge of the bed. Aaron had long since left for the congressional offices; it seemed if he wasn't there he wasn't anywhere else lately. Dainty feet hit the hardwood at bedside as she got ready for the day, gearing herself up for another long torture of nothing much to do.

Once the morning ritual was behind her Cassie set off for the kitchen. Eyes lit across the locked liquor cabinet when she entered, a familiar voice at the back of her brain speaking up, telling her it needed, it wanted, was thirsty and had to have a sip, just one sip. A shake of her head brought some of her long blonde locks from behind her ears. It wasn't that she couldn't control herself… But why Aaron needed to keep them in the house anyway, knowing what she was and her propensity for use; the reality he most likely wanted her to fall, to fail, was beyond comprehension. She looked away and made coffee, made eggs and toast and ate at the table with her head down. No more notice given to the cabinet at all.

Cassie was strong. She could do this.

She'd done it for two years now with no backing out, no giving in, and no exceptions…no sway.

Long nimble fingers, doctor's fingers on healing hands played with the pendant she'd been given upon her first ninety days clean and sober:

_God grant me the __**Serenity**__ to accept the things I cannot change,_

_\- the __**Courage**__ to change the things I can_

_and the __**Wisdom**__ to know the difference._

Being a drunk was in her blood, running in her veins, inherent. Her daddy and his daddy before him and his daddy before him, all had been drunks and mean ones at that; Hell, her daddy wasn't that nice when he was sober so it only got worse from there. Worse to unbearable every day… Today would be the first day she'd be leaving the house in quite some time, alone at least. In conjunction with Aaron's expectations about her work life and social connections, Cassie was always worried she'd fall into alcoholism again if she allowed herself out of the house for too long. Whatever the fear, irrational or not, the good doctor had to leave the house. Her best friend and fellow doctor, Henri Toussaint, just died. There were questionable circumstances surrounding the death of her friend; apparently he'd been shot in the head at close range after having helped a bunch of people in Haiti after the events of 2014. She was headed to the funeral now, a little black dress on her curvy but skinny frame, the hem meeting her mid-thigh, the top of it tank top style with no sleeves but not thin straps either.

She arrived to the funeral home before most of the people; there were only family members there and that was all Cassie cared about anyway. She paid her respects without much ado and left early, not wanting to stay for a reception after the rosary was said. While driving home Cassie only got as far as the gas station before she stopped, needing to fill the tank. She paid in advance, thirty dollars, and was standing at the pump, the siphon in the tank when…

"Hey sweetheart, you look familiar; I seen you before?"

"No, n-no I don't believe so…" Cassie eyed the man curiously. She was confident she'd never seen him before in her life but he was looking at her as though he knew her.

"Naw, I think I know you. You look real sweet…" His body language dripped of power and restraint as though he was barely holding back a need to advance on her.

"N-no, you must be mistaken."

Before she knew what she was about the back door of her car was open and she was thrown down on the seats. She tried to resist but the strange man was much bigger and much stronger than she was. He was a brunette with a large sweat stain down the chest of his shirt. He smelled like sweat and some kind of must as he practically laid on her on the backseat before he got her in all the way and closed the door, her wrists somehow bound and restrained behind her back.

"Stop…p-please stop…y-you don't have to do this…"

The man wasn't listening to her; instead, the brown haired blue eyed man stuffed himself behind her steering wheel and peeled out of the lot. He went no more than twelve miles before pulled off road and down some dirt road in the middle of an industrial complex. He left the driver's seat only to slip into the backseat with her, his body on her in every way. Cassie heard the buckle on his pants being undone and the grunting as the man readied himself to penetrate her, raising her skirt and ripping her thong panties aside to get to her hot wet core, which wasn't aroused or quite as hot and wet as it should have been.

"No!" She screamed, repeatedly, as he raped her. She cried and screamed and she wailed so loudly until he was done with her. He left the car and left her like that, undone. Cassie couldn't drive home; she was too emotionally unstable. What she hated more than anything was that she hadn't enjoyed any of it but she'd cum anyway. Why would God make a body like this? Why would a body react like that to rape?

She was barefoot and dirty, having walked all the way back to her home, old blood congealed and crusted on the insides of her thighs and on what remained of her panties when she got there. It was denial that drove her there as much as it was the need to forget. She wouldn't go to the police; what could they do? What could anyone do, here? The blonde stripped down naked after triple checking to make sure her door was locked, leaving her black dress on the floor and trashing her thong panties immediately in the waste basket; she hopped in the shower where the aim was to scorch herself until she couldn't feel his hands on her anymore or his… She cringed, a shiver ripping down her spine.

The shower was all it could be in comfort. She wanted Aaron but when he came home it was nothing at all what she'd wanted, what she needed. He came home oblivious and he stayed that way. Cassie couldn't bring herself to tell him. How could she? And why would she, anyway; she'd only be scolded for going outside when she didn't have to and be reprimanded in some way for caring about a man that wasn't Aaron 'almighty' Marker. He kissed her on the head, changed and fell asleep beside her. That was it. That was all he was capable of.

At three minutes to midnight the moon was mocking her with its light and Cassie was feeling more trapped by this life than she had in a long time. Why was she still awake? Why was she still sober? Her friend had died and she'd been raped and kidnapped all in one afternoon. If this wasn't the appropriate time to drink, Cassie didn't know what was. Leaving the bed she got up and padded barefoot, now a clean pale – if a bit pink due to the scorching heat of the water in the shower – into the kitchen. Her blue greens fell on the locked liquor cabinet. The bottles called to her, their silhouettes behind the frosted glass; they fell to her necklace and her right hand ripped it off without ceremony, breaking the clasp. "Two years I gave you and what did you do for me…huh? Nothing…" A butter knife in her hand she slipped it under the lock and jerked it hard forcing the wood of the cabinet to crack. The bottle of bourbon was in her hand, a good solid bourbon, 90 proof. Her hand shook as she poured out a tall glass half full.

"At the bottom now…this is only lateral movement…" She murmured before tipping her head back and nearly chugging the first glass of the amber liquid.


	2. And We All Bleed Red

There were all kinds of disease in this world. Cassie Railly's daddy just happened to have one of the diseases that could never be cured and would – should it be given the chance – easily be passed on to the kin and offspring. It was all Cassie could do to keep it at bay…but she didn't want to anymore. The glass was still in her hand, the bottle in the other, as she poured herself the last glass, the last drops of bourbon falling drip, drip, drip, into her glass.

That was far from the last of the alcohol in the house but it was, by far, her preference. But then, preference didn't matter when the tongue barely tasted the liquid, the hot fire passing the pallet and settling in the belly. Nothing existed but the brain as it satiated, as it spoke its approval for the high and the numbness that would come. The numbness was all that mattered. The mindless existence that came with the drink, the feeling of being blissfully unaware of anything; the pain of the inside was as numb, as empty of feeling, as Cassie needed, as every addict needed.

She put away two bottles of wine and a bottle of cheap vodka before she giggled with giddy anticipation. When Aaron woke up he would find her like this, a mess, with nothing much going on upstairs at all. She'd be numb; she'd be blissfully unaware. So, she wouldn't care at all how he felt about it or how he felt about anything really. He would matter to her now about as much as she'd ever mattered to him. She was his possession, his nine tenths of the law, his blind ambition and his lust for advancement. She was merely a token piece to him, something that allowed him to say he owned and he took; he conquered. He was almighty and powerful because he had her.

Not for long, now…

Eyes fluttered open but they couldn't see. There was something blocking them, some milky haze veiling her vision. She could hear those around her but she couldn't make them out.

"I need a new bag over here!" A woman yelled, squeezing something in her hands. It must have been empty or nearly so. "I need a push of epinephrine as well; her heart is crawling. She's not gonna make it if we can't get her heart rate up! C'mon people! Hustle, hustle, hustle! I need that bag now!"

"Doc…what about activated charcoal…?" Someone else spoke now; it was a lighter younger voice. Possibly an intern or resident…

"She needs to be awake for me to give her that, Miss Stevens. She's barely alive right now; I need her heart to start pumping blood and her lungs to filter the air and I need the fluid to come off her brain first."

So that was what had happened… Cassie couldn't remember. She felt someone prying her mouth open.

"We need to intubate, Malcolm. She's not breathing on her own right now."

"It's the fluid on her brain."

"I know! Take care of the airway first then when she'd breathing I want 5ccs of morphine pushed. I need to get that fluid drained…"

Blue greens fluttered closed now. Something matted her hair on one side, on the back too, and it must have been blood. That was all she could have guessed. Fluid on the brain meant she'd probably fallen and hit her head; most likely while she'd been drinking another bottle of alcohol…

When she came to it had been two days. Sun was blaringly brilliant through the side window, the blinds having been swept to the side some time before she'd woken. Her eyes found the chair beside her bed and Aaron sat in it. His hands were together, fingers threaded, laid across his knees while his lips were tightly pursed and her eyes firmly closed. He did not look happy. And Cassie's first reaction to the sight, instead of love or sorrow, was to roll her eyes and sigh. "What do you want? Here to drive me into another bottle?"

"Me? Me!? I'm the reason you've been driven back into drinking!? That's rich! How, pray tell, did I do that?" He was incredulous, not believing what she'd said.

Cassie laughed. It was a throaty, deep, hearty, full bodied laugh and under normal circumstances it would have been contagious but there was no one else in the room that shared her sense of humor on the subject. "Yes you, you fucking _**moron**_! How could you _**not**_ be the reason for my relapse!?" She sat up straighter in the bed, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a degraded demeaned expression. "You have been nothing to me but my owner, my master, my captor. You care about me personally as much as anyone cares about their home not going up in flames! You're pithy and sincere when you want to be but otherwise you hold me at arms' length. And I…I'm sick and goddamned tired of being so sick and tired. I need more… And you…you can't give me that."

He stared at her in silence for all of a second or so before the look of incredulity was back and he scoffed a laugh at her. "Me? I'm the problem? I can't give _**you**_ what _**you**_ need!?" He used his hands, pointing from himself to her and back again with vehemence. "_**You're**_ the one that can't give what's needed here, in this relationship. You're the one who is _**broken**_ and emotionally unavailable! What about what I need, Cassie? Hmm? What about what I need in my life? You have almost completely fucked up my potential for a career in politics, here, Cassie! Do you know what this kind of a _**stunt**_ can do to a spouse who wants to run for office!? Do you know what _**damage**_ you've done that I don't even know if our PR people can fix or spin some other way!? Do you!? Do you even _**care**_!?"

Cassie was speechless. There was only so much one could say in an argument anyway but when having said argument with someone this far absorbed into his own delusions of grandeur… There was nothing that could be said to get that person to see reason, nothing at all. Her mouth stood slightly open, the shock obvious on her face; her blue green spheres were opened wider than normal, brows knitted down together as she tried to process the words he'd spit at her like venom. The way he looked at her now it was as though she was a new puppy he'd brought home and she'd just shat on his living room carpet.

"Get. Out. Of this room. You fucking animal. You have no idea what you've done to me and you never will. Get. Out. _**Now**_."

The bed beneath her was far from the most comfortable thing in the world but being with Aaron had been the most uncomfortable thing; everything else was secondary. When Aaron finally left the room in all his indignation Cassie closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. He was right of course, in some ways. She was useless and stupid. She wasn't strong. She was far from it. She'd allowed a man to control her life and bring her down for so many years, now. She was that wilting lily her mama had warned her about never becoming. Her mama had been one; she'd let daddy beat her and Cassie, even, for a while instead of just leaving and never coming back, never looking back…

Cassie Railly was released from the hospital five hours later after blowing an average rate on a breathalyzer and passing a basic mental exam that allows doctors to ascertain whether or not the patient is fully aware of his or her surroundings and other current events. Her brain was functioning very well; that wasn't the trouble. It was her heart and her soul that was in torment, constantly under attack by her life, her love and lack thereof. She gave herself a half hour before she started drinking again. It wasn't that she needed to; she could stop anytime. That was the lie she told herself, at least, while her hands were still shaking from being dry for only two short days…

It took her three hours from the time she'd bet herself on a half hour before she wound up at a bar. It was an average bar, a little seedy, and small enough that it didn't gain a lot of people's attention; most people inside were regulars and it was likely she wouldn't see anyone she knew here. No one she knew who knew she was supposed to be a recovering alcoholic not actively breaking her pledge of sobriety… It was just far enough away and just close enough to her apartment that she could go there when needed and still remain aloof, somehow separate.

It was 2 a.m. Last call and she was ten beers and five shots of tequila deep. The bartender, Jeremy, asked her what she was looking forward to at home that she had to get liquored up for; her response had been a derisive laugh and stiff middle finger. "None of your business, darlin'…" She'd slurred before sliding off of her stool and meandering outside, albeit very slowly. If she went any faster she would have been face down on the pavement. Hell, she'd been there before. It didn't feel too great afterward but as she'd had experience to know, she wouldn't feel anything right when it went down.

"Alright, alright; I know you don't have to talk to me or anything but I'm available if you need an ear."

"If I need an ear I'll become cannibal first, thanks." It was the drink talking and it sounded like it anyway with the slurring murmur it came out as.

Don't ask her how she made it home but she did. Somewhere between the outside of the bar on the rough cement and front stoop of her apartment building she'd gotten into some mode of transportation and motored over to the building she called home. She couldn't find her keys in a timely manner and even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to get them into the lock so Cassie did the only thing she could do well. Be dependent… The key pad was to the right of the front doors to her building; she leaned against the stucco face and buzzed the apartment number that belonged to her. At least, she thought it belonged to her…

"Ko je ovo? Zašto vam ovo nazovete bell? Da li znate šta je? Ja treba da pozove vlasti!" _**{**__"Who is this? Why do you ring this bell? Do you know what time it is? I should call the authorities!"__**}**_

Cassie giggled like a little school girl, covering her mouth at the barrage of words she couldn't possibly understand. What language were they even speaking! "Oops! Sorry…my mistake!" More giggling as she brought her face in close to the keypad and buzzed the right unit this time.

"What!? Jesus Christ, the hour is ungodly! What do you want!?"

"It's me you piece of garbage!" More giggling; obscenely this time… "Lemme in or I'll tell the whole neighborhood you're hung like a hamster!" Another giggle fit… The buzz sounded and Cassie made her way inside, scraping herself along the walls as she walked to keep herself upright. She should have known when she called up that Aaron was still upset with her but she had no idea, really…

When she walked in the door there was nothing, no Aaron, no sounds, no light. Cassie's high heels were the first to come off, followed by her pantyhose. She hated pantyhose; all it did was restrict her anyway so take it off immediately, that was how she'd always operated. Being a drunk made no difference to that part of her life. She would always love and hate the same blessed or damned things. Because there had been no lights on for her she flipped one on in the foyer to better see her surroundings, stubbing her toes against the small bench in the hall before doing so and swearing. "Shit! Goddamn it!" She blurted out, more solidly than she'd said anything in the last six hours.

She didn't expect it.

She never even saw it coming…

Before Cassie could even round the corner into the living space an open hand caught her in the face, full palm. It made a 'bop pop' sound as it glanced off her nose and mouth. Cassie's head flew back; it was enough to unsettle her balance and she fell back into the foyer and over the bench, hitting her head on it. It wasn't in the same place she'd clearly hit a few days prior but it was still a hard knock on her noggin. Aaron rounded the corner in the dark and balled his hands into fists. "That's the last time you ever talk shit about me, you white trash whore!" He roared, raging, his right fist catching her cheek while the left caught her under the chin with an upper-cut. She couldn't speak. Her head was pounding and her teeth were now vibrating in her upper jaw and lower mandible. "Fucking cunt!" He swore before he threw her bodily against the wall; her shoulders hit first and her neck snapped back, her occipital skull making contact with the mint green covered stucco cement next. "Just can't fucking shut your mouth or do anything you're supposed to! Should just be a good little slut and say yes sir, thank you sir! But no…"

Her skull hit the wall for a second time when he advanced on her and punched her in the nose; not only that but she heard a crunch and blood sprayed the room in front of her, sprayed Aaron and bled like two raging rivers down her face, down her chin, soaking into her buttery soft muted blue t-shirt. "Fuck…" She murmured, barely lifting a hand to her nose, to all the blood before passing out…


	3. If There Are Monsters, You Shouldn't Go

Cassie was nine for a moment, lost in a sea of strangers and dressed all in black. Her aunt had paid for black hosiery for her specifically for this occasion and it was the first hosiery she would ever receive; Cassie wore white socks, anklets and usually barely visible above her sneakers but this was a special occasion. But it wasn't a happy one…

Cassie's mother died.

It was all rather sudden – brain aneurysm and all that – but it still didn't sit right with little Cassie. She couldn't quite understand the ramifications of this; or maybe she could and that's why the little one sat so still in the metal folding chair while everyone milled around her murmuring their condolences. She'd thought her mother was invincible, immortal even… Hadn't it been only three days ago now that her mother had held her close at night, softly begged her not to cry, and told her that if there were monsters in the darkness she would slay them for Cassie, because that was what mother's did for their baby girls until they learned how to chase them away for their own daughters.

"I'll only be gone for a moment, sweet pea. Mommy will come back for you once she checks for those pesky monsters."

"But…but if there are monsters, you shouldn't go!"

If there are monsters you shouldn't go…

If there are monsters, you shouldn't go!

Shouldn't go…

Shouldn't go!

Go!

The blonde sat bolt upright as she awoke from the nightmare – or memory…as it were. She knew full well that it was only that, a memory, because her poor mother had been dead for well over twenty years now. And still…her subconscious mind could hear her mother's voice as clearly as though they'd only spoken yesterday. Her mother was still the only champion Cassie had ever had in her life and the knowledge that the girl had no one in over twenty years was…sorely depressing. Which likely was the fuel to the flaming hot embers, reasons she already had to drink herself into the ground just like her daddy; not having a clear support system was the reason every addict fell off the wagon of sobriety.

Cassie sat on the floor of the front hall or foyer, a damp towel left across her forehead now laying crumpled in her lap. Seeing Aaron hadn't bothered to move her from the spot she fell the night before was no surprise to her now; he probably stepped over her prone form to get out the door to work that morning too. Hell, maybe he kicked her while she was out as a follow up to the beating she'd sustained the night before. Aspiring politicians did a lot of kicking when the opposing party was down, as well as beating dead horses and slander without factual merit. Aaron Marker was another pundit, another joke to be chased with a coffee and an egg bagel on Sunday mornings. And now, more than ever, she loathed him.

Getting up off the floor proved harder than it was seen in her mind's eye. Her body was stiff and the power to motivate her limbs was found but in less prevalence than was usually the case. Most of the energy her body was expending at this moment was to keep her functioning inside as the alcohol coursed through her system in excess and the body fought to regulate equilibrium, both physically and mentally. Cassie knew the cause was a just one, but all she wanted to do was have another drink. Her brain was telling her one more, just one more, while her liver told her that was more than enough; the thing was, her liver didn't control impulse or stem and beg or, vice versa, cravings. Her brain did.

Some women, lesser women, would have just given in and taken another drink; Cassie picked herself off the floor to get into the shower and wash the blood from her face, steaming in the heat and letting the chlorine and assorted other chemicals fog her brain while the water beat down on her. She stood there for what seemed like forever, the water on her head and back a soft faraway thrumming in her ears. By the time she got out her face and neck was clear of blood but she had a black eye and two splits in her lips. She looked like she'd gone all ten rounds with a scrappy hoe and lost, facedown in her own vomit.

"Beautiful…" She grumbled, a tight fake smile on her battered lips.

She showed up to work late by three hours and plastered to the wall like contact paper. As if that would help to hold her up when she was dead… Oh well, it didn't matter to her. She was beyond caring at this point. Nothing could stop her from doing what she wanted and this time, her only desire, was to die. Not that she _**wanted**_ to die, no. That would have allowed her a release from this horrible thing that plagued her very existence and would have stopped the daily punishment she fueled by its very presence. She enjoyed the pain much too enthusiastically to ever wish for death and a release from that hurt, that constant damage. Instead, she wished for death because it would make Aaron's world that much harder to live in. He would never hear the end of it. Decades from now until his death they would ask him about his unstable girlfriend and what a person he picked to be with so would he really be a good choice for Senator? They would ask him about the reason she drank herself to death and was it somehow related to him and how he treated her, or…lack thereof. They would ask him if her suicide still plagued him to this day, and he would make damn sure he knew how to answer that one ahead of time instead of walking blindly into it. With or without family left alive, Cassie still knew she was a woman who would die at her own will and her own affliction and that would leave every other woman alive, imaginable, with questions for Aaron Marker. Questions and scrutinizing stares…

Yes, her death would hurt her pernicious snooty boyfriend more than it would hurt her.

Let the judgment begin…

Needless to say work sent her home with explicit instructions to sober up and report back the following day with every expectation of needing to pass a breathalyzer in order to continue to work for the CDC along with the request that she bother with make-up then as well. It was only the appropriate thing to do, after all, wasn't it? Whatever… It wasn't like she'd be alive long to care about what was appropriate. The drive back was long, made longer by the absence of alcohol in her bloodstream. Her brain was becoming quick to judge, jittery and it was making her demeanor just as bitchy as ever. She saw a neon sign advertizing open, one below that said free drinks after midnight, and Cassie pulled over. It was after midnight, was it not? She parked and strolled up to the bar without delay, emptying her purse of twenties on the bar, totaling one hundred dollars. "My tab." She said simply to the bartender. "Straight bourbon, please, four fingers."

She figured she should walk home but she was going to drive. It didn't matter. Maybe driving home drunk would hasten her suicide plan; if she wrecked it would save her body a lot of suffering. But then, wasn't suffering the whole point of this? Pain was everything.

There was pain for everyone.

Pain was the coin that paid the ferryman.

She was driving slower than was the limit just so she wouldn't get pulled over or get in an accident but she hadn't banked on someone crossing the street when she closed her eyes for a split second. She missed him, cussing loudly, but sped off road and into a ditch, jerking hard against the seat belt as she wrecked. Her breath was stolen out of her as she belt pressed hard against her sternum and bit sharply into her breast through her shirt and bra. "Ah…shit!" Cassie was at an odd angle and she realized the car was almost on its side in the ditch. A soothing voice, most likely male, raspy and yet velvety soft came to her through the haze of drink and adrenaline. She barely noticed the door on her side being wrenched open and someone wedging themselves inside.

"Hang on…you're gonna be alright. You're lucky you missed me but the luck didn't stick around for you. I'm gonna get you out of here alright?"

Who was this guy? He was nothing like Aaron that was for sure…

"Mmmmm nnnnnggh…" She moaned and groaned. "Had an accident… M'sorry…" It came out garbled and mumbled.

"It's okay; I'm okay. Don't worry about me, okay? I'm gonna help you now, okay?"

The EMS rig had arrived ten minutes ago and she was still sitting on the curb with ice on her chest where the front of her shoulder came in. The seatbelt did some real damage to her; her skin looked like the site of some really bad turf burn. An EMT loitered around her, probably waiting until the cops got there so they could take her away for drinking and driving, afraid she'd run off if he didn't watch her. But the young man she'd almost run over – he wasn't exceptionally young, looking like he could have been her age, maybe a year or two younger – he sat on the end of the ambulance trying to get them to take better care of her. Cassie scoffed a drunken laugh and rolled her eyes as well as she could considering. This yahoo just didn't get it…

"You should really take care of her. She's the one who's hurt. I'm fit as a fiddle." He insisted, his longer scraggly looking blond hair hanging in his face until he brushed it back.

"Actually you better keep helping him. He's fucking delusional." Cassie spoke up, practically insulting the person who saved her from her own stupidity. "I'm the reason we're both in this mess, period. End of discussion. Suck it up and take the attention, baby."

He couldn't help the smile that came to his face. This chick was loaded and rude and he still somehow found her beautiful, alluring, and…lovely. "I love attention. Maybe that's why I saved you…" He smirked, sheepish as the blonde's face contorted in a mixture of disgust and repulsion.

"You wish!"

"Maybe you wish…" He retorted.

Cassie had nothing to say after that. The look of revulsion faded away to nothing and her eyes – though completely captivated by the male's grey blues – barely tore themselves away and looked to the ground in front of her. It turned out that no cops had been phoned and the young man was just as fit to leave as she was. The EMTs called her a cab and the young man waited for it to get there before leaving her alone. He smiled at her when she looked at him and she smiled back, soft, a little bit apprehensive.

"I'm Cole." It was a simple introduction. There was nothing following, no pretense, and no hand posturing that led to shaking.

"Cassie."

"Well, considering the circumstances it might not be _**nice**_ to meet you." He smirked and laughed softly. "But it's a pleasure all the same…"

This earned a soft laugh from her, too. That wasn't like her lately. She didn't laugh. "Yeah, sure…" She acquiesced. "A pleasure…"

"You have a nice smile. You should do it more."

Cassie sobered. Which, in itself, was ironic… "I don't have anything to smile about, so…"

"You should change that."

Cassie looked at him, her blue-greens locking with those grey blues. Anyone could see she was thinking about that. "Why?"

"Life is way too short not to. This world is full of pain so, we should make light of as much as we can." Cole looked back and his eyes were softened, pools of acceptance and kindness. "Why not…?"

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes… "I'm in a lot of pain now. I can't explain why now…just that I am."

"I'm sorry about that. Did you ever…think about talking to someone about it?"

Cassie was floored. He seemed so sincere about the whole thing. Like…he cared about what happened to her. "You don't have to be. Sorry, I mean; I did it to myself." She looked down again and closed her eyes briefly while she sighed. "I can't. I…don't have anyone to talk to."

"Well…I'm right here."

She scoffed another laugh. "I don't even know you. And anyway, you're not going to stay here for as long as I need."

"How do you know that?"

"You got a half a year?"

He chuckled, kept the smile on his face. "I've got to check but I think we could work something out…"

"Don't tempt me."

"Okay, but seriously…" He sobered too, became serious and scratched the scruff on his chin and jawline. "You need to talk about it. Bottling it up inside is only gonna kill you."

A yellow taxi pulled to the side of the road just as she processed his words. Cassie stood and looked down at him as he still sat at the curb where she'd been. "I'll think about it, Cole…thanks."

"See you soon." He said, like he meant it.

"I don't think so…" She murmured, barely audible, as she bundled herself and her bag into the back of the cab and shut the door behind her with a metallic thud.

He was still staring at her and the taxi as it grew smaller and smaller down the lonely empty street and Cassie couldn't help looking back through the back window once, wondering at his kindness; she didn't deserve a guy like that.


End file.
